


Lies

by Ghospice



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Anal Sex, Blood and Injury, Dominant Pennywise (IT), Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Mike doesn't have a good day, Mildly Dubious Consent, Pennywise is His Own Warning (IT), Pray for him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:41:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25619050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghospice/pseuds/Ghospice
Summary: Mike has to call the losers back. He hesitates. The sewer clown isn't pleased.The room began to change, darken. The walls blackened and flakes peeled off floating upwards. It was getting hotter, and the very air was turning filmy with smoke. The clown stood center, unmoved by the building fumes and heat. Mike’s eyes squeezed out tears. He could taste the ash on his tongue, it was so real.
Relationships: Mike Hanlon & Pennywise, Pennywise (IT)/Mike Hanlon, The Losers Club & Pennywise (IT)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 23





	Lies

**Author's Note:**

> For the sake of Mikes safety, the relic thingy somewhat works lmao, and so Pennywise is nervous of it

The blood seeped upwards in jagged lines, and Mike’s stomach turned to stone. _‘Come home’_ was repeated, like a child’s delusional ramblings. But no child had done this. It was instead, a child killer of incredible power, one that Mike had been expecting, and dreading for many years.

It had finally returned, and Mike knew exactly what he needed to do. The others would have to be called, would have to leave their happy lives to defeat this thing once and for all. Mike knew this, and yet he wasn’t sure if he could bear to do that to them. After all, he had the means to defeat it right now, sitting innocently upon his floor above the library. If he could defeat it, alone, they wouldn’t be forced to remember the horrors it inflicted upon them as children. He could do this.

Mike raced home with his heart beating out of his chest. His car came to a crawl outside the library, and in the heavy darkness he sat, hands fisted on the steering wheel. 

Could he take it on his own? The ritual was only shown to him as a group endeavor. It had killed every person present. What would make the losers different? And what’s more...the ritual had failed. He had seen this in a hellish fever dream, and it begged the most uncomfortable question in Mike’s mind...how sure could he even be that the ritual was true?

He leaned back with a huff. The tribe had said their ancestors hadn’t believed, and so it failed. But if there was no proof of the ritual ever working, it didn’t give him a great sense of confidence. He stared out into the street, eyes drifting to the gaping black hole of a sewer drain. The being had definitely returned, and he was out of time to find any other solution.

He climbed out of the car and headed for the library. Unease filled every slow step. He felt like any outward sign of panic would bring the clown straight to him, hunger for his fear drawing it in like a vulture circling a dead body. It knew what Mike meant to do, and that was the only reason it hadn’t come for him yet. The message was meant for him. 

He locked the library doors, as if that would make a difference, and strode to his room upstairs. Stacks of papers and ornaments decorated the space, all manner of Derry news and various drawings he’d made of the creature. Suffice to say, Pennywise the Dancing Clown had dominated his existence. It didn’t matter. Mike had the entire town's lives on his shoulders since childhood. He never forgot that among all his distress and worry that the whole thing was going to end in disaster. He should have been better prepared for this! He’d had twenty seven years, for god's sake.

And so had the monster. Had it watched him, in its long rest? While he pried whatever knowledge he could get from the unwilling residents? Surely it would have shown up by now if it knew what he knew. If it knew about the artifact.

And speaking of the devil, there it was, upon his desk. A tall leathery pot, with various carvings that Mike had studied many times over. It sat inconspicuously among the piles of research. All of his hope lied in this damned thing, and that wasn’t a reassuring thought.

He passed it towards the window. Derry lay in moonlit silence below, the road empty and coated in the artificial glow of streetlights. It would be an awful time to begin the calls. He checked his watch. He hovered there, simply watching the little black hand tick by.

A man had been brutally dismembered. He didn’t have time to be screwing around. Each missing poster was another body on the pile of bodies building in Its domain.

The natives hadn’t believed it would work. If he only believed strong enough, he could possibly take it right now? He pulled his phone from his pocket, and the screen lit up in a bright glare.

There was no guarantee they’d even agree to come back. Mike had lived here, in his little bubble of Derry life. They had all left, and for good reason, even if they didn't remember why. He couldn't think of anyone willingly returning here with the knowledge he had. The gruesome awful truth.

He hesitated, before slumping down on a seat by the table, dropping his phone there. He rubbed his forehead with a sigh. Something needed to be done, urgently, but the idea of dragging his old friends back into this horror show felt wrong, on some deep level. He’d have to lie to them about ritual, and hope it worked against all evidence to the contrary. He closed his eyes.

At some point he must have dozed off, because he jerked awake to rays of red light bleeding through the round window. He tapped his phone, revealing it to be 4:31 am.

“Shit,” he mumbled sitting up. The stiffness of his bones made him feel older than he was. Though at forty, he was no spring chicken.

It was too early to call them now, so he’d just have to bide his time, and maybe he could figure something else to-

There was an odd feeling in the air that Mike couldn’t describe. He looked about the room. The dim lights were still on, but the dark spaces seemed fuller, deeper. It was quiet. That wasn’t unusual seeing as only he lived here, but it felt tight. Like an elastic band pulled taut.

Mike realized he wasn’t alone.

He jumped up, knocking his chair back. He didn’t own a gun, and in that moment felt very, incredibly stupid. There was nothing of use here. His eyes shifted and fell upon the artifact. It was untouched upon the table. He didn’t think, he just moved.

Mike pulled the pot towards him and held it against his chest, just as the tall frame of a figure appeared. 

He cried out, a very embarrassing sound as he leapt back. The creature stood on the opposite side of the table. 

It was worse than all his nightmares had recalled, bigger then he had ever imagined. It crept forward from the dark like a large predator. Its eyes glued on him and its painted mouth a narrow line. To put it simply, it looked pissed.

“Hello, Mikey,” it greeted in its off putting voice, stepping close to the table edge. It’s eyes shone with malice, unnatural gold highlighting the black pupils needling him.

“Why are you here,” Mike pressed further along the wall. There could never be enough space separating them, in his mind.

“Do not play games with me,” it murmured, voice dark, “you know what you must do,” a finger wagged at him like he was a misbehaving dog.

“You don’t tell me what to do,” Mike responded, his pulse beating in his ears. He gripped the artifact tighter.

Pennywise pulled its rabbit teeth over its bottom lip, biting it hard. It slunk around the table in a slow walk, gloved hand resting upon the piles of research.

“Call them back,” it said, “you have no choice.”

“No.”

“Do it,” the clown growled, nails piercing through its silk gloves. It was probably picturing wrapping them around his throat, “Do it Mikey. Mikey do it.”

“Never,” he spat.

Its teeth were sharpening before his eyes, but it did not lunge. Instead its head twisted and regarded the table. Its fingers slid along a photo he’d taken, and a sly smile grew on its strange face.

“I sensed you, you know,” it began, looking down at the photo, “a filthy little rat...scurrying through my home,” it glanced up at him, “thought you were sneaky, did you Mikey? Thought I wouldn’t know…”

Mike cringed. He did consider that when he went down there and found the symbol of Chud. But he had needed to know more about the monster, so the risk was worth it.

“Pennywise knows all,” it gave a smug smile. 

It filled Mike with a certain type of horror, knowing the creature had felt him, like a spider knowing a bug is on its web. He thought it was sleeping, dead to the world. Apparently not.

“You are defenseless, alone,” it said conversationally, “you should call them Mikey, before I chew on your bones and bring them myself.”

“You can’t intimidate me,” Mike said between gritted teeth, “not when I-” he stumbled back, “not when I have this.”

Pennywise cocked its head as it studied the item in his hands, “that?”

It took a menacing step forward, “oh silly, stupid little Mikey. Mad, mad mad mad. A mere token doesn’t scare Pennywise.”

“I think it does, and I think you know what it is, too.”

The being gave a half lidded stare, and took another step forward. Mike was running out of room. He didn’t fancy jumping out the window and breaking a bone, but the option was becoming increasingly a good idea.

He raised the pot like a man wielding a cross to ward off a vampire, “I’ll put you back inside it, don’t think I won’t!” 

Pennywise stiffened, its red hair rising like a ruffled cat. Mike jutted the pot forward and Pennywise shrieked, an angry noise that ruptured into a hiss. The grin on its face fell away and it started to pace like a caged tiger, not closing the final stretch of distance between them. It’s eyes drifted apart into two fiery suns of hate, and it walked faster, faster, to the point Mike was sure fire would spit from beneath its jester boots.

“You have no power here human,” it hissed between a clenched jaw of jagged teeth, its eyes raking over the artifact, “nor does your little toy.”

“I believe,” Mike said, “and because of that I _fucking_ do.”

“Do you?” it started, “do you do you do you...I don’t think so…” it smiled, a nasty display of teeth seeping with its saliva, “I smell fear. Oh yes. You could not hide it from me.”

Its words were frightening, but it did not step closer. This infused Mike with bravery, “I think you’re all bark and no bite.”

Pennywise stopped moving. Its eyes darkened into the deepest shade of red Mike had ever seen, bordering on black, like a demon. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.

“You serve a purpose boy, but that can expire anytime.”

Mike began to smell something. It was bitter and sharp, layered with sweetness. Burning, the scent of burning ash and-

The room began to change, darken. The walls blackened and flakes peeled off floating upwards. It was getting hotter, and the very air was turning filmy with smoke. The clown stood center, unmoved by the building fumes and heat. Mike’s eyes squeezed out tears. He could taste the ash on his tongue, it was so real.

“Do you remember?”

“F-fuck you,” he could hear distant screams, the sounds of his dying parents reborn with hideous clarity, “cut that shit out. I k-know it isn’t real.”

His top was sticking to his skin, soaked in sweat. Pennywise examined him with great interest, and purred, “it may not be, but it is real enough for you.”

The room was steaming with heat by this point, and behind the clown he could see the red flames. It cast the creature in deep shadow, the tips of its orange hair alight in a sinister fiery glow, strangely angelic in nature.

Mike blinked hard just for a second. When he opened his eyes Pennywise suddenly snapped forward in a move of unprecedented speed, teeth cracked out of its over-sized mouth.

“Shi-!” he had no time to move before he was knocked to the ground with a hard whack, breath wheezing out of his lungs. He coughed out dry, ash filled air and tried to wedge the artifact between them, but the monster knocked it aside.  
Its many teeth gleamed like hundreds of poised daggers. It shot forward for his throat. 

Mike blocked with his arm. Its mouth clamped around his forearm and he shouted in pain. With his other fist he landed blow after blow onto its head, but with no reaction. It was like punching cement. Blood ran down his arm in rivulets, coating his skin and dripping onto the floorboards.

Its teeth dug deeper and Mike screamed. The pain was white hot agony. He expected it to puncture through bone or to tear arm from socket, which it was fully capable of doing. 

Instead its teeth slid out from his arm. Pennywise shuffled back, leering down at him with its gore slicked smile. It’s blackened tongue lathered up the blood encircling its mouth.

Mike held his injured arm close, hissing at the pain. His frame shook with adrenaline. He desperately needed to move back but he didn’t dare prompt another attack. 

“Your taste,” it moaned, licking away the remnants of blood with relish. It set a sole amber eye on him, “so delicious Mikey.”

Mike looked aside to see where the artifact had landed, but his attention was jerked back by a hand. It had moved very close in absolute silence, as if it had merely blinked into existence before him. Its gloved fingers pinned his cheeks in place as it glared down at him. Drool slid free from its jaws as its eyes fell to his heavily bleeding arm.

“Should get that checked,” it murmured, and then, before he could say anything or retaliate, Pennywise grabbed his arm and brought it to its lips.

The hot meat of its tongue stung his open wounds and he groaned. It swiped up the red liquid in long, rough strokes, and Mike felt the threatening graze of a tooth.

As he watched, helpless to do anything, Mike felt a very shameful thing. He tried to yank his arm back again, but the clown simply held him still with ease, its grip like immovable steel.

The fissures on its white skull appeared deeper up close, more indented. Mike wondered if that was due to their fight as children, or simply because he had never been this close to it before. He shivered as its tongue met the inner skin of his elbow, rubbing over the prominent veins in his tense skin. If it could feel the blood rushing there it gave no indication. The monster pulled away. Its hands remained on his arm.

“Mikey…” its head tilted as it watched him, its mouth parted, “you wish to defeat me?”

Mike didn’t answer straight away. It was just mocking him further, and he wanted no part in encouraging it. The beings eyes had faded to light lemongrass, and it drew closer. Much closer then he would’ve liked.

“I will give you a clue, if you do but one thing for Pennywise,” it breathed.

Mike frowned and said nothing. He hoped it was like a cat, something that got bored of playing with its prey when it stopped responding. Unfortunately that was not the case with Pennywise.

One of its hands left his arm and trailed down his thigh. The soft touch unnerved Mike. It was incredibly disorientating when it had gone from trying to rip his throat out to touching him so delicately.

“I know what you feel,” it said, voice heavy with some unknown emotion. Mike simply glared. Its tone abruptly changed and it grinned, “what would the others think if they knew?”

“Just get off me,” Mike demanded.

Pennywise drew back, releasing him with a sour look. Its face fell into false sadness as it whined, “Mikey, oh Mikey. Do you not care for the little children anymore?”

The clown was lying. Mike knew this deep in his heart. A creature this treacherous and vile, could never keep its word. Its words were as empty as its heart.

But. Mike was still unsure if the artifact even worked. He had no real answers. He did not think the clown was stupid enough to tell him its own demise, but he wouldn’t put it past the thing to give him some real clue, out of pure ego, its solid belief that the losers could never truly harm it.

“...what do you want?” 

Pennywise lowered its head to rest upon his knee. Its cheek was cool to the touch. Its disarming smile sent dread straight to his core. 

“Lay with me, and I will tell you all,” it promised.

Mike’s face must have shown his reaction because it let out a bark of sharp laughter, throwing its head back in a series of cackles that shook its massive shoulders, jiggling its ruffles.

“Why would you even want that?” Mike said, disgusted.

Pennywise was still giggling when Mike spoke, and it stopped dead. Its mouth smoothed out into a firm line, “why not?” it kneaded its fingers into his thigh, and he jerked back, “perhaps my wants are not so different to yours.”

“I don’t-” Mike stopped himself, thinking. He felt a strong knee jerk reaction of disgust at the idea. The way Pennywise was touching him was admittedly nice, but only if he could forget the face those wandering fingers belonged to. But the  
temptation of answers, even from this deceptive creature, felt worth it. It would be for the greater good.

His old friends might have had something different to say about this, but for Mike, all moral bets were off when it came to dealing with an ancient evil entity that was going to consume a never ending line of children. 

“Okay,” Mike mumbled, “let's say I agree to that. How can I trust you?”

It climbed forward into his lap, running its clawed hands down his hips, “that is not my concern, but yours.”

Mike reared back so its mouth wasn’t so close to his face.

The room had returned to normal, the only smell was a cloying sweetness, reminding Mike of the sticky taste of cotton candy. An illusion weaver, and a liar. That was all it was. His palms were sweating but it wasn’t from the heat  
anymore.

As if it could sense his ill meant thoughts, it dug its nails into the thin layer of his trousers, sending spikes of pain into his flesh. Mike gasped. That was all it took for Pennywise to dart forward and push its tongue into his opened mouth.

He gagged. Its massive tongue filled his mouth so he could barely breathe. He pushed at its shoulders, tilted his neck but to no avail. He could hear his heart flutter in panic. Pennywise finally relented, withdrawing. It smirked at him and Mike wanted nothing more but to stab its eyes out. It leaned forward and licked at his closed mouth and face, copious amounts of drool dripping down.

“W-what the fuck man,” Mike coughed and grimaced, its taste lingering. He kept his hands firmly on its shoulders, feeling the cool silk covering its strong body.

Pennywise let out a strange chittering giggle, “just a small taste.”

The experience had killed any sense of arousal, and Mike was debating calling it off and simply finding a bat. But then the monster’s hand slithered down and pressed against him.

Mike pursed his lips, feeling the flickers of arousal return, as it began to rub against him with long drags of its black tipped gloves. It was nerve wracking to have its claws close to such a vulnerable area, but maybe that just added to his excitement. It certainly beat having its tongue in his mouth.

“So dirty, so disgusting,” it whispered while watching his reactions, “a good boy like Mikey allowing me this.”

“S-shut up.”

The clown tutted, “rude boy,” he yelped as it started tearing at his trousers, cutting it away like paper, “insolent brat.”

Cool air touched his uncovered skin, and Mike shuddered. The clown's gloves had disappeared, baring its taloned hands. It took his cock into its clawed fingers and tugged it up. Mike groaned at the sensation, its skin cold and smooth.

Pennywise’ eyes widened at this sound, as if it did not expect such a reaction, and its lips grew wetter. Mike could feel its bright stare upon his face, and he squeezed his eyes shut, panting.

“So easy,” it murmured, pulling rougher along his length, “Mikey wants this just as much.”

It squeezed him, and Mike couldn’t help the way he leaned into it, his head curving forward. It had been a long time since he’d been with someone. If Pennywise even counted as someone. His reactions were both embarrassing and shameful. He didn’t want it to end.

“Want to taste you again,” that was all the warning he received before its head dropped between his legs.

There was a hiss of noise as its tongue unraveled from its jaw and curled around Mike’s cock in a teasing lick. Mike gasped as his penis felt like it had been doused in icy, slimy water. Then it brought him into its mouth and sucked.

Mike cried out at the stimulation. He panted at the chill before his body adapted to the cold of its throat. Its tongue had been hot before. Now it was like the North goddamn Pole. It was definitely fucking with him, but god it felt so good. 

His fingers went to its head, and he touched it's surprisingly soft hair, blunt nails pressing into its skull. Pennywise didn't seem to notice or care. It made a low hum in its throat, and the vibrations had Mike twisting restlessly about. His fingers rubbed against its hairline, feeling the dull bumps of its cracked skin. He sunk his digits into its hair, disturbed by how human it all felt.

And then he felt the tips of teeth nudge against his cock. He stiffened, a fearful gasp turned into a grunt as it gave a harder suck. There were definitely pointed tips emerging inside its throat.

Pennywise snickered, likely sensing his rising panic and reveling in it. It smoothed a free hand over his hip bone in slow circles. Mike had no clue if it was meant to be mocking or a genuine attempt at comfort.

“Ha- plea-please don’t bite me,” Mike stuttered out. He felt overwhelmed by the growing need to come. 

Pennywise growled and bared its front fangs from around his cock, and the sight almost sent him over the edge. 

His fear only seemed to drive it to suck harder. The dread that it would bite was always present, but it seemed to intermingle with his arousal in a way that heightened his senses. It was dizzying and thrilling. Just as he was reaching his end, pushing at its mane of hair, the monster pulled back and released his stiffened member. His dick oozed with saliva and Mike trembled with unfinished need.

“J-jesus, you just…” Mike began but the words died as he watched the clown begin to tug at its own clothes, pulling away the layers of silk with sudden haste. Its face was stern but its eyes were melted gold, hunger and lust.

It unveiled itself and Mike was relieved at how normal it was. It was big and as pale as the rest of its body, but only a little larger than himself. However, that mattered more given where it was going to put it. 

Pennywise crawled forward between his legs, its long arms draped either side of him. It froze there, gazing down at him for an awkward amount of time. Its eyes split directions and Mike squirmed, worried it may have decided to chow down. But Pennywise did not tear into him, instead it’s gaze narrowed.

“Turn over.”

Mike frowned, “uh, no. If you want this, it's this way.”

“Why?” it grunted, irritated marring its face.

“Wh- Because I trust you as far as I could throw you!” he snapped.

“You could not lift me.”

Mike huffed, “that’s the point,” if it didn’t hold his life in its hands right then, he could possibly see the humor in the moment.

“You think you could stop me from hurting you, however I choose to take you?” it asked.

Mike knew he couldn’t, but it was the principle of the matter. You let it bite off more than it could chew, and it would just take and take and take. 

“Mikey…” it cooed in a saccharine voice, “if you only-”

“Fine,” he interrupted, “we’ll do it your way.”

Because really, Mike knew this would all be over much quicker if he just agreed to shut it up. And he really needed to get off. The little bastard had left him hanging. 

Pennywise looked elated, its grin beaming as he turned away, glad he couldn’t see it anymore. He still tensed as it moved over him and placed its hand on his ass. Mike almost bit his own tongue when he felt its sharp fingers prod at his flesh. He tried to sit up only for it to force him back down with a single palm.

“No,” it rasped, amusement in its wavering voice, “stay still.”

It searched with its fingers until it found his entrance. Mike hissed as he felt a wet digit slip inside, thankfully not carving his asshole a new one with its talons. It felt hard and foreign, but not unbearable. Especially not when it reached around with its other hand and stroked him almost sweetly.

“F-fuck,” Mike breathed harder. He shut his eyes and focused on the sensations. It was horrifically good at giving pleasure, seeing as how much it liked to take rather than give. The thought of this monster having been with another human before was both awful yet arousing at the same time.

It rubbed inside him with the soft underpad of its finger, before deciding that it had prepared him enough, and withdrew. 

“If I had known this awaited my return from slumber,” it said, “I would have awoken sooner.”

“N-not doing this, for you,” Mike grunted. His cock stood painfully aroused, and it only touched it now with the most delicate of caresses that made Mike hate it, more than he ever thought he could.

“But you are Mikey,” it purred. He felt its mouth run along his neck, it's hot breath agitating, “it is for both of us.”

“God,” Mike answered at the feeling of its own cock pressed between his cheeks.

“Yes,” Pennywise hissed as it nudged forward, puncturing his hip with a set of deadly claws. It mouthed at his shoulder with needle-like teeth making Mikey gasp. Fear bubbled in the pit of his belly.

There was no coming back from this, Mike thought. No way he could look his friends in the eye without shame again. But fuck if he couldn’t find it within himself to care in that moment.

The unyielding wooden floor scraped against his flesh with every thrust, the monster growing bolder with each attempt to go deeper inside him. It made it past the tight ring of muscles with a noise Mike had never heard before. He grit his teeth at the initial bright flash of pain, despite its dick being covered in some kind of precum. Or maybe it was blood, he couldn’t see. But it was wet, thankfully. Mike was glad to have most his clothes on, otherwise he knew he’d find himself bloodied and cut beyond belief.

Mike moaned as it sunk further in, still a terrible burning at its thickness. It was both pleasure and pain. Pennywise growled and practically hugged at his back, its front pressed against him tightly. Once it could move in and out without resistance, it picked up the pace, holding him possessively tight.

“O-oh Mikey,” it puffed, voice jumping with its brutal thrusts, “so tight. So good.”

He hated how it said his name, with that disgustingly childlike nickname, as if it were someone close to him. 

It’s other hand squeezed at his length. Mike cried out, so overwhelmed by the pleasure that he barely noticed the pain, blood pooling where it had bit the back of his neck.

Mike’s body was held in place by its firm grip. He could feel his end speeding towards him with every pump of its hips, pressure on his cock, and even the sounds of it growling and mewling with its own building pleasure. It didn’t seem to know which sound to settle on as it chased its own high, its movements growing erratic and violent.

Mike came with a shout, his vision diminished to pure white. When he recovered he felt its hand still gripping him as it followed him in climax. It shrieked and snarled above him, like an animal caught in barbed wire. It was more than a little disturbing.

He felt warmth as it came, and with it, a feeling of fullness and unease. It did not remove itself. For a moment they both lay there panting. 

He was overheated and sweating, but Pennywise clung to his back, its cock softening inside of him. He worried that if it didn’t take it out soon, it would try and go again. And Mike was dead tired.

He allowed it to rest with him, too exhausted to really put up a fuss. If it tried to kill him he didn’t know if he’d have the strength to fight back.

“Did you like it?” the clown asked, an odd, rumbling noise at the back of its throat that vibrated through him. Mike ignored it, shutting his eyes. 

“Soon the others will be here,” Pennywise enthused, ”we can all catch up, and then play in my sewer.”

“They’re not coming,” Mike groused, already growing irritated with its enduring presence.

“Yes they are,” it said, “you will call them, and lie to them just like you will lie about this.”

Its hand ran down his shoulder blade. Then it pressed its cheek against his back, rubbing against him like it was cuddling into a comfy pillow. Mike was more than uncomfortable and wanted nothing more than to slam his head back into its oversized skull.

“Get off, now.”

Surprisingly the clown pulled away. Mike felt his breath come freer. He quickly turned over to face it, and felt its come slide down his thigh. His cheeks warmed.

Its clothes had reassembled to look perfectly untouched, while Mike had to contend with the mess he was in, cuts and torn rags lying in scraps on the floor. It laid back upon the floor, sunk down on its long legs and chewing at its claw with mild interest, eyes hooked onto Mike.

“Do you know why the ritual failed, truly?” it asked in a lilting tone. Self assured and smug as all hell.

Mike pulled his clothes up as best he could. At its words he froze, “why?”

“They did not have the full puzzle. Missing a piece, as you are.”

“What piece?”

It pointed a finger at itself, “there is no way to defeat one such as I.”

 _Son of a bitch,_ “you said you’d give me a clue!”

“There is no need if you cannot succeed.” Mike glared. It rolled its eyes as if this whole thing was beneath it.

“You are missing...outside help. You had it as children, but you do not possess it now. And,” it chuckled, “you never will.”

Its words were meaningless and confusing. Spite shot through him, and Mike grit his teeth at its smug, razor tipped grin, “we can still take you and win.”

It scoffed, “Silly Mikey. A madman. You will die. But,” it waved its claw, “I will look forward to your sad attempt. A fun little pastime before I rest.”

“We’ll see,” Mike said. He pulled himself up and moved back from the clown. Pennywise watched him like a hawk, its eyes narrowed and gleaming, catching the twinkle of sunlight coming in the window and reflecting it like a cat.

“Maybe I will let you live, so we may play again,” it teased.

“Get outta here.”

Its lip crinkled to bare the sharp point of its buck teeth. 

“Useful,” it muttered, more to itself. And then it smiled at him, in a way that promised nothing but unpleasantries and future violence, “see ya soon Mikey.”

It evaporated in the early morning sun, leaving nothing but displaced air and dust, and Mike’s uneasy thoughts sprouting like weeds.


End file.
